


Conscious Actions

by HarleyMischief, Moremoran



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nervous Sherlock, Oblivious, Rimming, Sheriarty - Freeform, Top Jim, Virgin Sherlock, jimlock, post - tsot, tsot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyMischief/pseuds/HarleyMischief, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moremoran/pseuds/Moremoran
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is feeling fragile.James Moriarty is feeling patient.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Co written with Moremoran - moriartysgrave (tumblr) 
> 
> Just a little one shot. 
> 
> The first and last chapters are in text form. The main story isn't.
> 
> Typos are likely- please forgive. 
> 
> mention of previous self harm and previous drug use though nothing explicit

Prologue

Texting a dead man. SH

It was either this or cocaine. SH

I thought this would be a distraction but considering the fact I am having a conversation with myself I appear to have miscalculated. SH

I wouldn’t go that far. You should give yourself some credit. JM

I mean I used to. JM

Apparently my cognitive function decreased a little there. SH

I dropped my phone. SH

Did I scare you? JM

Boo! JM

Scare? No. Shock? Maybe. SH

You could have jumped out of a cake. Would have been more dramatic. SH

Yeah well I’m on a diet. JM

So anyway. What’s up? It’s been an absolute age. JM

Nothing. SH

Okay, sure. Why are you texting a dead guy then? JM

If you were a dead man you wouldn’t be able to ask me that. SH

Oh I know! I saw the announcement. You okay babe? Does it hurt? JM

Okay. You know I’m not dead but you wanna be rn don’t you. JM

You’re making fun of me. SH

Oh come on. That’s what I do. JM

Poor ickle Sherlock. JM

 

Okay. Right. SH

You’re sooooooo sensitive. JM

Did you go to the wedding? JM

Of course. I was the best man. SH

You’re a better friend than me. I would’ve been out of there. Fuck that. JM

Why? SH

Because why would I put myself through that? No, I’d much rather spend the evening fucking someone hot to forget about it. JM

I guess we’re different. JM

Very different. SH

Polar opposites. SH

So how’s your side working out for you. JM

I don’t have a side. SH

I just am. SH

Not so well then, huh? JM

You’re enjoying this. SH

 

Maybe a bit. JM

You’ve missed me. JM

No. SH

Yes you have JM

I haven’t missed you. I’ve missed your problems. SH

You’ve missed me and what I can give you. JM

Why does everything have to be an innuendo with you? SH

Whoa I just meant puzzles. Someone’s got sex on the brain. JM

I never have sex on the brain. SH

You wanted me to respond to your text. That’s why you sent them. So stop being silly and tell me what you actually hoped to gain by this when you sent the first text. JM

I wanted to not be – alone. I suppose. SH

Alright. JM

I feel stupid even saying it. SH

Yeah well you are stupid for saying it when you could’ve just done something about it. Haven’t you worked out where I am yet? JM

Somewhere in the vicinity of a SW1W postcode. SH

There’s my clever boy. How about I send up an emergency flare and you come find me. JM

Drama queen. SH


	2. Oblivious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim manages to show Sherlock a few tricks. 
> 
> Sherlock appreciates them. 
> 
> A lot.

 

Jim hummed as he got up from the living room sofa and went to the broom closet along the corridor. He rummedaged around a little until he found a flare gun and then walked to the balcony, whistling I Want to Break Free as he did so. As the presumed dead criminal stood outside in the middle of the somewhat quiet night, he pointed the gun into the air and fired, sending a blast of red and orange sparks into the sky way above his balcony. He heard a parked car's alarm go off just under them and smirked, it would be easy enough to find him now. 

Sherlock was already in the neighbourhood and was surprisingly close when the flare shot up. He didn't know quite why he had ended up there - it wasn't near Baker Street and it was at least two stations for Mycroft but here he was. Sherlock walked towards the building where the flare had originated from, calculating the distance and speed it must have travelled. He came to a large town house with those typical off white London walls. The door was open just as he said it would be. It felt strange, after all his time just stepping into his house. Moriarty's house. He cleared his throat and walked down the hall, wondering if the man would be on the roof. Sherlock took the stairs and followed his deduction to the fire escape and out onto the rooftop where he found James Moriarty just as he had three years ago.

Jim wasn't expecting anyone that evening so he didn't wear anything too spectacular when he was hiding out inside. Being dead did tend to leave you pretty limited for outside interactions but every so often he'd risk it. Jeans and a tshirt had been his outfit of choice for days like today, so he wondered briefly if Sherlock would object to his casual wardrobe when he'd only seen him in a suit. Then he realised he didn't care. As the door opened to the rooftop balcony Jim grinned and turned around to see him in his tails and looking like a handsome sad puppy.

"Aw look at you. How handsome. Much better than the scruffy beard I didn't like that look. Sober you is much more appealing."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked across at the skyline - the view of the river from Victoria was quite exquisite.

"You look like a homeless person who stumbled up twenty quid and brought himself some lounge clothes from a high street half price sale."

Jim shrugged but a small smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

"Are we going to kill each other again - the last attempt was obviously not successfully and I'm not sure why else you would have invited me here." Sherlock asked.

"Oh god no. I've got plans in the works and I'll be dammed if I'm going to miss it simply because you got a bit sad at a wedding."

Jim smirked, then looked down at his clothes.

"These jeans cost more than your suit. The tshirt is H&M I'll give you that but it's so soft."

He walked up to Sherlock and took his hand to place on his shirt.

"See?"

Jim let go of Sherlock's hand and turned back over his shoulder to look at the view,

"Its pretty. We can stay out here if you would rather. Though I bet you're just itching to snoop around my house. Because it's actually mine. I've lived here for - oh no. You tell me."

When Jim took his hand his heart was almost at the out of his stomach - he didn't know why he was nervous.

"It is soft."

He said simply, letting go a few moments after Jim had released his hand. Sherlock sniffed before making his deduction.

"Seven years, you've had the door repainted twice and the floor relaid when you moved in. You like the aesthetic and don't want to change it again though your tempted because you can't replace the cracked tile near the mirror in the entrance way. They were hand crafted Salavor Dumar and he's dead. You'll only take the original."

"True, but I have found a very good restorer who may be able to help. But I haven't decided yet. It's nice though isn't it?"

Jim smirked, moving so he could walk towards the balcony edge, there was a brick half wall lining it so he could lean against it as he looked down.

"It's been three years hasn't it? Since that day. John's forgiven you then. That's good. Forgiveness cleanses the soul. Or at least makes the shit a little easier to swallow."

He groaned as he leaned forward almost laying on the narrow wall,

"God it's a long way down." Jim said, briefly off topic before going back to Sherlock's most recent engagement.

"So the wedding. Yellow flower petals are still in the back of your hair by the way. Was it a nightmare? All those happy and lying couples."

Sherlock's hand moved to the back of his head to brush away whatever remained of the confetti and sighed, stepping closer and leaning against the wall next to where Jim was.

"I am forgiven. Or superficially forgiven - as forgiven as I ever shall be." He huffed out a laugh.

"You're ex girlfriend is engaged by the way." Sherlock smirked. "He bears a rather striking resemblance to me."

He looked out over the city and waited a while before he spoke again.

"John and Mary will be happy together. She's - pregnant. People tend to be happy about that don't they?" 

"Mmm..."

 

Jim then furrowed his brow because who the fuck was Sherlock talking about. Ex girlfriend? Oh didn't he pretend to date someone - Molly. Weird. He shook his head and looked at Sherlock before turning so he was leaning back against the brick.

 

"Yeah they tend to get really happy about babies. I haven't figured out why. People can be so - confusing. And stupid. Mostly stupid which is why I don't go near them unless I have to."

 

Jim looked down Sherlock's body and hummed low.

 

"You look very handsome tonight. Shame it's wasted on me."

Sherlock frowned.

"Everything I've deduced since we met about your sexuality would suggest it isn't lost on you at all. You enjoy the way I look." He paused. "You appreciate my physical make up, my face, my mind and the way I dress. You would be pleased to enter into a sexual relationship with me." Sherlock paused. "Unless I managed to make an extreme miscalculation somewhere a while back."

He took a few steps back. 

"No, no. You're right. You're a pretty thing to look at and I'm glad I'm the one who gets to do it. But whenever I dress in my tails I like for the world to see. But then again, as we established before, we're different."

 

Jim stepped closer to Sherlock and realised that this poor man was oh so lonely and had been desperate to come there. Jim put his hands on his arms running them up to his chest so he could slip them under the lapel of his jacket and push it off his shoulders.  

 

"There now. Better. I can see more of you and you're not distracted by the phone in your inside pocket." 

 

 Sherlock let the suit Jacket fall away, not even glancing as it slipped to the floor. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him like that. He swallowed and reached down to unbutton his cuffs and pulle the tie off, discarding that on the floor as well and knowing he looked considerably more like himself once he had rolled up his shirt sleeves.

 

"It was hot - and uncomfortable."

 

Sherlock looked over his shoulder to the fire door.

 

"We should go indoors. I'd like to take these shoes off. I'd also like to - have a drink. I'm sure you can provide something suitable."

 

"Yes of course, come on."

 

Jim snapped his fingers and started walking, leaving the clothes on the ground because Sherlock could get them in the morning. He had no doubt about that.

 

"Oh let's see what we've got for you," Jim mused aloud as he walked into his open plan kitchen.

 

"I've got wine though I'm sure you've had enough of that today. Oh I can make you the best whiskey sour you've ever had. Or just whiskey if you're a purist."

 

Jim got Sherlock his drink and one for himself before going to meet him, thinking he'd be in the sitting room but almost bumped into him just standing there between that and the kitchen. 

 

 

Sherlock was feeling a little awkward - this wasn't a client or a suspect, it wasn't like barging in on someone with guns blazing and doing exactly what you wanted. He was still lost on that thought when they almost had a collision.

 

"Apologies - I wasn't sure whether you would want me wondering around. I'm not usually so - considerate but..."

 

Sherlock huffed and took the drink before showing himself into the living room despite all that he had just said. It was big, a piano in the corner and wide window almost taking up the entirety of the back wall. The couches were leather, there was a wide flat screen television. The decoration was tasteful but minimal. He walked over to a set of shelves which contained books and various items - an old Mayan dagger that had reportedly gone missing from the British Museum five years ago, an original manuscript for a movie called 'Vertigo'. He cleared his throat and picked up the small bone carved fox that lay beside it.

 

"I didn't even notice it was missing."

 

"I was wondering if you would find it."

 

Jim smiled a little as he has been watching sherlock look around.

 

"I don't have anything to hide, not from you at least. You'd find it anyway. If you want to look around I don't care. I half assumed you would be dying to meander about looking at everything I have so you could deduce me to the point of no return."

 

He walked over and sat down onto the leather couch, sinking into the plush cushion as he sort of just - sprawled out but still managed to do it elegantly.

 

"Don't take it back, I like it. I almost took the skull but I thought you'd miss your friend. Then I saw that and - well it's just so cute."

 

"I won't take it back, you can keep it. It looks more at home here."

 

He ran his finger along the dark wood shelf before turning slowly to the piano, his eyes running over it - over the art on the walls and the way the television was positioned. The odd cleanliness of the floor - not a speck. In fact the room hardly looked lived in but that couldn't be true given the indent on the couch and another - another that was less recent. Abandoned.

 

"You're lonely too." He said quietly. "Moran - he moved on and got himself a life. He used to sit on the right side of the couch but the indent there is fading, going back to its usual shape. He hasn't sat there in a long time. You always mean to meet but he's often busy."

 

He paused, waving his hand vacantly at the piano.

 

"This is an old piano but you take care of it - you love it. It holds sentimental value. It's not the best you could afford but you don't care. Isn't important. You suffer from an anxiety disorder though or something which causes you to get extensively nervous after certain situations which leaves you cleaning almost to the point of compulsion."

 

When Sherlock mentioned Sebastian, Jim's hand tightened around the glass and he knew Sherlock would notice it. He noticed everything. Happy that he turned his focus on the piano, Jim turned and looked at it and smiled,

 

"Mmm, yeah she's an old one, learned how to play on that piano. Took her from Ireland when I moved. Sentiment makes us do crazy things. Like spend a small fortune on shipping a piano to another country."

 

Jim ignored the anxiety and cleaning deduction because - well a disorder was a weakness and he didn't like dwelling on that.

 

"You've had a long day of deductions haven't you? The mayfly man at the wedding,"

 

Jim tutted as he walked from the living room to where Sherlock stood,

 

"I shouldn't be playing with you like that, your mind must be tired. You should turn it off a while." 

 

"I'd be happy to if you had any idea of how I would achieve it without taking a substantial amount of illegal and harmful substances."

 

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly and twitched as if something was nagging just near his ear but it was a fiction of course. He walked to the couch and sat down on it, staring ahead at the television.

 

"I haven't been the same - nothing has. I hear words, nonsense. Everything is messier I can't - deduce in a linear fashion." He shrugged. "I'm tired almost all of the time. Not tired. But tired. Bone aching tired."

 

He looked down at the amber liquid in his glass. "Do you understand? Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

 

Jim watched Sherlock as he walked away and turned to follow slowly, giving him a moment of silence before sitting down next to him and put his glass down on the table before them. Jim turned so he was facing Sherlock,

 

"Yeah."

 

He spoke quietly, just above a whisper, and it was honest. He did know, he knew that exhausting feeling when you're wide awake but everything felt like he hadn't slept for years.

 

"Stop. Just stop for one minute. Don't think."

 

He physically turned Sherlock's head so they were facing one another, Jim's hands still on either side of Sherlock's face,

 

"Look at me and just - focus on only one thing."

 

Suddenly Jim was guiding his head and their eyes met, warm hands still either side of his head. Sherlock was nervous and uncertain which was making his mind unsteady but when Jim spoke he tried to pull it back, to focus just as Jim said and he picked his eyes. It didn't matter what people said about eyes - they weren't windows they were eyes. With irises and corneas and retinas. Jim's were dark swirling brown not unlike the dark wood that made up the forested grounds at the estate in Sussex. Sherlock tried not to stray from that thought, from Jims gaze, from the way it felt to be there in that second and not have to think about the rest of the world.

 

"You're not making fun any more are you?" Sherlock said weakly.

 

 "No I'm not."

 

He still didn't let go of his face, eyes locked on Sherlock's because apparently the man was examining his eyes.

 

"You're - so stupid. It's frustrating because I like you and you're clever but you're so stupid. You can turn this off whenever you want."

 

Jim tapped on Sherlock's temple from both sides,

 

"When was the last time you watched a really, really bad television show. Like - like 'Come Dine With Me', Or something stupid like that? Honestly it's mindless and you just turn off when you watch it. It's incredible."

 

He waited until Sherlock realised Jim was teasing again and the criminal smiled,

 

"I used to go out and get drunk in a random city and make out with the first person I found attractive. That's how I used to deal with the noise. Honest." 

 

"But I don't understand how that would benefit me. If I turn off what's to say I won't miss something important. What's to say that we aren't as similar as you assumed and in fact my mind is broken and unable to be turned off at all."

 

Sherlock took a deep breath and pulled himself away so he could stare at the television again, after a beat he swallowed down what was left in his glass and then looked back at Jim.

 

"I haven't been drunk since I was twenty one. It was a terrible mistake. I threw up in an antique water fountain." He frowned at the memory. "And I'm almost certain someone has a photograph of that somewhere."

 

"I'm 90% sure that I've seen that photograph and have it framed on my desk upstairs. Just so you know."

 

Jim smiled and moved closer to sherlock because this might be the only way he can turn that stupid brain off.

 

"Close your eyes, let me try something."

 

Jim turned Sherlock's head so he was facing forward and waited until his eyes were closed, carefully, he put his hand just under his jaw right around his throat but didn't squeeze, just held right there, and leaned in until his lips were just at the corner of his jaw but didn't touch. Jim could smell the cologne he put on that morning, the hint of Mary's perfume, John's cologne, flowers, champagne and wine, and now his whiskey. It was an incredible bouquet of his day right there at the base of his jaw. One hand was placed at the small of Sherlock's back as he closed the gap and let his lips press against Sherlock's skin. 

 

At first he went stiff because people didn't touch Sherlock, they didn't hug him or touch his hair or anything like that. People didn't like being around him. They didn't like talking to him unless they needed something. Maybe he was starved for affection, that's what an over emotional and dull John Watson would say. For some reason everything just sort of ground to a halt when Jim had a hand around his throat and he did wonder if the man might strangle him. He kept his eyes closed and tried his hardest not to say anything. He'd just gotten used to the sensation of having someone else so close when he felt Jims lips on his skin and it took all his strength not to bolt like a frightened horse.

 

"I..." He swallowed hard. "What - what exactly are you doing?"   

 

"Shh," Jim hushed him as his lips stayed pressed against his neck, "I'm giving you something to focus on."

 

Jim tilted his head so he could get more room and he open his mouth, laying his tongue against his warm skin and he trailed along to under his ear.

 

"Focus on me. This. You taste good. I knew you would."

 

Jim used the hand that was holding onto Sherlock's throat to tilt his head and get more of his skin. He tasted like - Sherlock. Like he smelt but better. He didn't know this particular exercise would affect him so much but god he liked this. 

 

He sort of brought his hands up awkwardly, his fingers twitching until he had them back on the couch with no idea what to do about them as if he'd never had hands before in his life. Jims lips seemed to move and explore their way along his jaw and throat. Sherlock was almost certain that his bottom lip was trembling from this strange build up of unfamiliar pleasure.

 

"I don't - "

 

But he was hushed again and went silent, trying to...relax though that was becoming increasingly difficult.

 

"What do I taste of?"

 

"The same way you smell."

 

Jim nosed along his jaw, turning Sherlock's head so they were looking at one another.

 

"You taste like cologne, a bit salty, very good. I like it. And I want to taste more. And I need you to close your eyes."

 

He waited until Sherlock had closed his eyes and Jim moved forward, pressing his lips to Sherlock's, moving carefully. Taking one lip between his, sucking gently before moving to the other, licking the line between them and just, just trying to get him to relax and fall into the moment.

Jim finally found the point where Sherlock relaxed and he moved so he was facing him farther, one hand on the side of his neck while the other held his waist, pulling closer.

 

"Open your lips,"

 

Jim whispered and breathed softly against him,

 

"Let me taste more."

 

Jim waited, always waited because if Sherlock wanted him off he knew he'd push him, would say no. He waited and finally he felt those beautiful bowed lips open and he let his tongue slide between them to meet Sherlock's. 

 

His mind was working at a fifth of its usual speed which was why it took him so long to register exactly what it was Jim had asked him to do. Sherlock slowly, cautiously let his lips part and then gasped when he felt Jim's tongue tease past them and into his mouth - it shouldn't be a shock honestly what else had he been expecting. He didn't even have the sense to try and recall any information he may have on kissing. Sherlock moved his tongue, just ever so slightly, just enough to go ahead and surprise himself. He surged forward a little, enough that Jim would notice as he began to reciprocate though it was messy and shy. 

 

When Sherlock began to kiss him back, Jim moved so he could sit on Sherlock's lap, his hand on the side of his face to cup his cheek, the other now around his waist to keep close. It was doing wonders for his own stress and general anxiety. To just have someone there and someone so responsive to kissing. He tasted absolutely delicious and those sweet little jumps whenever Jim made a new move was so - beautiful. Jim bit down on his bottom lip only enough to keep him caught between his teeth as he tilted his head, letting it go only go lick between his lips again. 

 

He thought briefly that Jim was very well practiced, that he was almost eloquent in the way he moved his lips as if he was reading poetry. Sherlock wondered if this was what kissing was like every time it happened. He became braver with the touch of teeth and let his own tongue sneak into Jims mouth, letting his body relax against the pressure of Jim sitting upon his lap. His hands lifted from the seat of the couch and ended up wound in Jims hair though illogical in that moment it made the most sense. Sherlock wanted to tell Jim that he tasted good, that he felt - like hot sweet tea and rice pudding with jam after having a cold for a week.

 

"Jim..." He murmured over his lips. "Kissing is - interesting."

 

"It's a funny thing, isn't it?"

 

Jim smiled, letting their lips just brush together,

 

"Mouths pressed together, tongues touching, it shouldn't be so absolutely wonderful and yet - it's one of my favourite things in the world. Kissing. We should do it again."

 

He smiled again, pressing his lips to Sherlock's jaw, allowing him to speak if he wanted whole Jim explored the long expands of his throat and neck. God he was delicious and he wanted to taste every inch of him. Perhaps tonight he would. 

 

"I never understood precisely why people were so interested in it - the exchange of saliva could be achieved far more conveniently by other means but I suppose it isn't at all about that. Though I do like it - your saliva."

 

Sherlock cleared his throat and wondered if that didn't sound at all - right for the situation.

 

"I like it. I like your weight. The pressure. The build of something. Like a ghost is buried in my chest. You have wanted to do this for a while - kiss me. I hadn't even thought about it until a few hours ago..."

 

Sherlock realised belatedly that he had admitted to something he hadn't meant too. 

 

"You thought about kissing me a few hours ago?"

 

Jim smirked and wound his arms around Sherlock's neck, kissing his cheek and around to his lips until he could lick deeply into his mouth, more than before as he pushed himself closer against his torso. Knowing he would feel a tightening in the pit of his stomach just as Jim felt. It had been an absolute age since he'd been laid, at least by an Englishman. Normally he has to leave the country to go out in public without risk. Oh it felt so good to be desired like this as well. 

 

For the first time that evening Sherlock made a low almost pained moan, his body just giving in to it all, mouth opened wide to allow Jims tongue to take him and this time the pace was a little more hectic, as if there was some chaos inching in upon the way they reacted to each other. His hands fell to Jims back, pushing their bodies closer together. It took him another minute of heavy breathing before he realised his body was reacting in a far more - substantial way which had him stuttering and moving back against the couch.

 

"I apologise - this doesn't usually happen." 

 

"Oh-"

 

Jim breathed a little harder and looked down between them and smiled as he shook his head,

 

"It's actually quite good that it happened. My ego would've been badly bruised if it hadn't. I was trying to make it happen."

 

Jim took Sherlock's hand and placed it on the inside of his thigh so he'd feel Jim's own reaction to their little makeout session. He presssed his hand firmer there and sucked in a quick breath.

 

"See? It's alright, it's good. Really very good. In fact I would like more if you're game for it. I could let you deduce my bedroom and you could tell me what I was thinking and all that fun stuff you like to do while I undress you and kiss every last inch of your gorgeous body."

 

Sherlock kind of just stopped - he thought it must be as John said he looked after he had been asked to be  best man. In the long moment where he did not blink or make any movement several thoughts ran through his head. The place where Jim had put his hand was radiating heat like he had never imagined. His own penis was full of blood and harder than it ever had been during a night emission or any other inconvenient time. That Jim's bedroom was probably very different from the main room and that Jim may possibly be suggesting that they engage in sexually activity. He imagined he could feel Jims member throb. But how could that be possible over the denim?  Why would - why was touching Jim's penis so erotic. Why were penises erotic.

 

"My bedroom is particularly comfortable." He said after another long beat. "I do not sleep often but it is important orthepedically to have a decent mattress." 

 

 "That's true. I didn't used to like sleep but after a while I started truly loving it. The way it feels to wake up and not move, just turn over and hug around the pillow and continue dozing into the afternoon. It's magnificent. I also like good mattresses, I like firm ones. Once that are good and bouncy."

 

Jim slipped off of Sherlock's lap and extended his hand for him to take it and pulled him up to his feet.

 

"I want to take you to my bedroom. And let this exercise continue only more comfortably. And perhaps out of my jeans. The denim is beginning to get uncomfortable." 

 

It took him a long time to stand up and he wondered why Jim was being so patient with him. Nothing he knew about his personality so far would support that. Sherlock realised belatedly that he had taken a Jim's hand and now was indeed being lead through the hall to a large bedroom which was warm - a huge bed with a tall headboard. There wasn't a wardrobe but he assumed there was a walk in closet. The door on the left wall would lead to an ensuite. The lighting was dim, comforting.

 

"Are we going to have sex? I understand the biological requirements but in practice I have no experience."

 

"I'm going to kiss you a lot more, I hope you continue to kiss me back, I would very much like to take your clothes off or at least your shirt and trousers. Then I'd like to kiss you on places that aren't your face or neck, and I'd like to touch you in places that I'm sure no one but a doctor has touched you."

 

Jim pulled off his shirt, exposing any scars he may have that sherlock didn't know he had, even a long elegantly drawn jellyfish tattooed along his side from his hip to his ribs.

 

"Oh have I surprised you? I was a young twenty something who liked pain and the beauty in it."

 

Sherlock listened to all that Jim said and he wasn't sure whether or not that equated to sex. Sherlock sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to convince himself that his interest in Jim's body was purely for the sake of his deductive reasoning.

 

"Yes. It is a surprise. I deduced the self harm - but the tattoo..."

 

Sherlock shook his head and stood up straight again and started unbuttoning his shirt. His body was surprisingly unmarked, planes of marble skin pulled over a muscular chest. He had a dark beauty mark on his right pectoral. His arms held the majority of his scars from his drug use, other than that the remnants of a stab wound marred his left leg. 

 

"Oh look at you..."

 

Jim hummed and walked to him, running his hands up his chest and over his shoulders then up to his neck and into his hair at the nape until he could bring him closer as he stood up taller on his toes so he could kiss him again. Their bare chests pressed together, he could feel how hot Sherlock was, how his breathing changed and his heart was beating faster. He moaned softly as he felt himself ache and he dropped one hand so he could undo the belt around his waist, then his fly so his jeans would drop to his knees and he could step out of them. His pants were tight olive green, light enough to show the very obvious line of his hardened cock laying firmly against one thigh. 

 

He'd never expected that anyone would much want to look at him but apparently Jim wanted hands all over him and then they were pressed together. Jim's hands on his body, Jim's lips on his own again, their mouths half open and he wasn't half so nervous this time when he pressed his tongue out to lap deep into Jim's mouth and he thought he was feeling exactly what he was supposed to which was very odd. He still wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands but they found Jim's back and explored the length of it, the shoulder blades and the dip at the small of his back. Sherlock stepped back his hands shaking as he moved them once more but to his belt buckle, his eyes suddenly fixed on the bulge in Jims shorts. He swallowed and pulled the leather through the loop and tugged it free just to drop it on to the floor. Sherlock had never been ashamed of his body but then again he'd never intended to use it for this purpose so when he undid his fly and let them drop to the floor to reveal his rather garishly neon green underwear he did feel nerves rise in him.

 

"Are- are those the same pants I wore when I made you think I was 'Jim from I.T.'?"

 

Jim laughed and knelt down in front of him and kissed Sherlock's stomach right above the waistband of them.

 

"They are really comfortable aren't they? I didn't have to try very hard for you to think I was a poor gay clubber with bright green pants."

 

He looked up at him as he grinned and paused and imagined just taking Sherlock's cock out and sucking him off so hard he came within seconds. But, maybe that would come later. He stood up and ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair,

 

"You're so beautiful. You should know that."

 

Sherlock didn't know why his muscles tensed when Jim fell to his knees, when he could feel him so close to his...to that part of his body. For once he wasn't angered by his bodies reaction to the presented stimulus. Perhaps that meant he liked the stimulus.

 

"I always thought appearance was important - but that I could always have a little fun. Where no one would see. Which no one had ever seen. Until now."

 

He took a deep breath and moved one shaking hand, letting it rest flat on Jims side where the tentacles of the jellyfish wound around his body.

 

"It suits you." Sherlock paused and looked around. "You never said. Before. You never said if you were lonely too."

 

Jim started kissing Sherlock's shoulder and along his collarbone when Sherlock asked that stupid question.

 

"I'm not lonely. I choose to be alone."

 

It was a lie but ii was one he was going to stick with for the rest of his life.

 

"Now, stop asking questions about that and ask why I'm pushing you backwards onto my bed."

 

He pushed him and crawled over Sherlock until he could kiss up his stomach, dragging his tongue along the trembling skin, the gorgeous, trembling virgin skin.

 

"God you're so new, so excited to discover this, to learn about something so primal. Do you want me to teach you?"

 

"Lie."

 

Sherlock said it but as soon as he did he was pushed back on to the bed and there was no time for communication because Jim was crawling over him and laying kisses and licks on skin.

 

"I am an exceptionally quick learner so it shouldn't take long."

 

He said honestly, looking up at the ceiling, his voice even as he tried to focus but it was getting considerably more difficult.

 

"I - excited. I suppose I am. Intrigued. It's something I should experience at least once."

 

"You're going to experience a lot tonight. Maybe some things more than once."

Jim settled on one of Sherlock's nipples, licking it again and again, having it harden under his touch before he nipped and tugged at the little dusky pink nub. Jim shifted so his knee was between Sherlock's thighs and pressed against his groin, making sure his own cock rubbed against  Sherlock's thigh.

"God you're making me so hard...do you want to see? I know you can't understand why a penis would be so arousing, but wait until you see my cock."

Sherlock's eyes were wide - there was a lot of sensation all happening at once and he was having difficultly filing it all away in its rightful place. His nipples were hardening which he knew was a reaction to them being stimulated but that didn't explain why it felt so good. And there was no logic behind quite how badly he wanted to see Jims penis. When the man shifted down the waist of his underwear and the length of him was revealed Sherlock gulped, he noticeably found his mouth getting wetter as if he'd just seen something he wanted to eat.

"It's - very...above average in length and thickness." He paused. "In biological terms I suppose it's a good...a good...what you said. A good cock."

Jim smiled and moved so he could wriggle out of his pants and toss them to the floor. Leaving him bare, hand wrapped around himself as he knelt over one of Sherlock's legs. Straddling him like this, letting him rub himself against the detective,

 

"I'm glad you think so. I think it's rather nice. Feels good, heavy. So hard. You made me this hard I hope you're pleased with yourself. I know I am."

 

Jim grinned, stroking himself slowly, squeezing in just the right places so he throbbed and precome began leaking from the slit of his cock. He moaned softly and bent forward so he could start sucking at one of Sherlock's defined abs. 

 

His eyes just raked over Sherlock's body and every time it did they lingered on his cock, the way the seminal fluid beaded from the urethra. Sherlock found that he wanted to touch it but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to. His own member was throbbing to the same heightened rhythm of his heart, gaining friction from Jim's knee that was still lodged between his thighs.

 

"This is because of me? You feel like this because you are attracted to me - because you like my body." He paused. "I want to touch your penis. I want to know what your seminal fluid tastes like. I like tasting things."

 

"Call it precome and it's a deal."

 

Jim grinned and waited for that gorgeous baritone voice to say it and once he was satisfied he crawled up Sherlock's body so he could straddle his torso, up to his chest so his knees were under Sherlock's arms and his cock was just inches from his face.

 

"I wouldn't mind if you gave my cock a nice licking. In fact I would very much appreciate if you did. Or you could just hold it, wrap those pretty fingers around my shaft and feel how heavy it is when it's so hard. all becaus of you. Your body. And the very idea of fucking you makes me just..."

 

Jim closed his eyes and let himself imagine it, and his cock very noticeably twitched. 

 

Sherlock said the word and it made him feel dirty but not in a bad way, not in any way he had before. He licked his lips and thought about what he wanted to do first, he had always liked tasting, experimenting by pressing things against his tongue. And so he did, leaning up on his elbows and letting his tongue slide against the swollen glands, over the slit that was leaking - precome. Sherlock laid his tongue flat and just let the heavy weight on Jims cock lay on it as a curious hand curled around the rest of his shaft.

 

"Like this..." He said though it was nearly incoherent thank's to the flesh currently laying upon his tongue. 

 

Jim's eyes widened as he watched Sherlock lick the head of his cock and god he wished he could make a recording of this. Jim closed his eyes and nodded,

 

"Yeah baby just like that."

 

He let his head fall back as Sherlock started licking along his cock, experimenting the way it felt and exploring him.

 

"Oh fuck you are so...god you're so good. Curious little tongue. You like the way it tastes? You want to suck it? Huh?"

 

Jim pushed him a little closer and let Sherlock take him in a little more,

 

"Wrap those pretty lips around me, go on. That's it baby. Such a good, good boy.  Suck just a little." 

 

Sherlock didn't know why Jim's words had such a profound affect on him, that he could now feel his own cock leaking, his whole body trembling. He was a good boy, he was doing something good and Jim appreciated him despite all of his failings. Sherlock did exactly what he was told, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around Jim's cock whilst the other hand stoked his length. Suckling, swirling his tongue. It tasted good - it felt fantastic and he had no idea why and usually that would terrify him but it didn't. Oh it didn't at all. After a little while he started testing himself, taking a little more or sucking just that little bit harder to see what would happen.

 

Jim moaned and let his head fall back as Sherlock started sucking harder,

 

"You're so good. Fuck so good. My good boy. Oh fuck. Fuck baby that feels so good."

 

Jim rolled his hips so his cock dipped in and out of his mouth little by little.

 

"Better stop soon,"

 

He looked down at him, thumb trailing along where Sherlock's lips stretched around his prick.

 

"I'm going to come soon if you don't stop and as much as I want you to eat all my come I want to last for you. Make you feel oh so special."

 

Jim pulled himself out of Sherlock's mouth and grinned, dipping down to kiss him and taste his own cock on his tongue. He thought he might not like it when Jim started thrusting but it was nice to give up a little control.

 

 

"Does it make it sweeter? Does it make it better for you to know you're the first. That this is the first cock - "

 

Sherlock swallowed and licked deep into Jims mouth, sliding his own tongue against the others.

 

"The first - cock I've ever wanted. It makes you feel powerful which arouses you even more. It's been a long time since you had sexual relations with a virgin and you've never had anyone that remained pure as long as me."

 

"You're the first virgin I've had in a long time. You're the best I've ever had. Ever. So responsive, so beautiful."

 

Jim ran his fingers through his hair, reaching down with his free hand and slipped the waist band of his pants and wrapped his hand around his shaft.

 

"You're such a good boy Sherlock. You've got such a pretty cock too."

 

He looked down and grinned when he saw him. Straining he was so hard, the pink flesh going a little deeper in colour, leaking so much his pants had a wet spot.

 

"Do you want to come twice tonight? If you want I'll make you come right now. Three minutes and I'll have you feeling more than you've ever felt."

 

Sherlock was suddenly scared by the intensity taking over his body as Jim started stroking him.

 

"I've never - masturbated. Even when I was a teenager it isn't something I've deleted and I'm - " He swallowed. "I'm scared".

 

"Oh Sherlock...you don't need to be scared. I'll show you everything. I'll make it so good. You'll feel so good."

 

Jim kissed him softly, running his fingers through his hair. When he pulled back, Jim slid down the length of Sherlock's body, kissing along the way.

 

"I'm going to make you feel like you've just taken a breath after holding it in for your whole life. Like a good stretch in the morning that just keeps going. Im going to make you feel so good Sherlock you might even forget your own name for a minute."

 

He looked up at him as he fed himself Sherlock's long cock, keeping his eyes on him as he lowered himself down onto that beautiful prick. Letting it disappear inside his warm welcoming mouth. 

 

Jims words did comfort him though he'd never set much store on words before. For some strange reason he found that he trusted James Moriarty which practically everyone he knew would say was a terrible mistake. The sound that came from his lips when his cock was swallowed in incredible heat was animalistic.

 

"Oh - oh I'm..."

 

Sherlock's eyes rolled to the back of his head, he couldn't help it no matter how much he wanted to watch, to learn for the next time he performed the act for Jim. A constant stream of incoherency fell from his lips - it was as if pieces of information were falling away from his brain like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit. It was like his lungs had contracted and breath had been drawn from him as someone lit a fire and made his blood boil, pale skin flushed pretty pale pink.

 

"I'm..."

 

Everything collided - his eyes suddenly snapping wide and he could see almost nothing at all but bright coloured sparks. Throbbing. Aching.

 

"I don't..."

 

But then his whole body went stiff, it shook and convulsed, it crept in on itself and released all at the same time. His brain shorted out - there was nothing but this drug like ecstasy expect it was more- higher than he had ever been in his life and it came in harsh unrelenting pulses.

 

It hadn't taken three minutes, it had maybe taken two but if was so worth every second just to feel the way he bucked and squirmed and moaned so beautifully. Jim took everything that Sherlock gave him, collecting everything in his mouth just to hold it there for a moment before swallowing it all. He let him go and licked up his body, settling at the base of his throat where he left a bright red and purple love bite.

 

"Your come tastes like absolute heaven. I could eat it all night long."

 

Jim was more than a little horny, desperate to get his cock in that tight little arse.

 

"Fuck you are such a good boy. Pretty posh boy. You want me to stop? You want me to let you sleep or do you want to keep going?"

 

He could feel Jim, could even hear him talking but it was coming to him from very far away and as if it may have possibly been in a different langue. Sherlock murmured something that didn't make any sense and looked vaguely up into Jims eyes. He had just experienced the best moment of his entire life and for all his cleverness he couldn't remember what words were. Then suddenly, as if something crashed down from above he knew what he wanted - to feel like that again, to make Jim feel that exquisite because he didn't hurt anymore and in that moment at least, he didn't feel alone.

 

"I want more."

 

He said hoarsely, leaning up of his own accord to kiss Jim, to pressing into his mouth and taste what remained of his emission.  

 

"Tell me what you want."

 

Sherlock spoke over Jims lips.

 

"Tell me what you want me to do. I can do it. I can follow instruction when I want to. I want to feel that again. I want you to feel it." 

 

"That's my boy..."

 

Jim grinned and pushed himself up higher so he could kiss Sherlock again, licking desperately into his mouth for the longest time.

 

"I want to lick into your little virgin hole." Jim whispered before pushing up and kneeling beside Sherlock,

 

"Turn over for me. Show me that pretty arse."

 

He watched as Sherlock moved, that pert arse on show and Jim was hungry for it.

 

"I'm going to make you so hard again. Then I'm going to finger you, massage your prostate until you're close, then I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you so good Sherlock you're going to feel so good."

 

Jim kissed along Sherlock's spine once he was settled between his legs and then licked down the crease of his bum before his tongue ran over his rim. 

 

Sherlock wondered if he was being manipulated, if Jim simply wanted to use him for something sexual or if there was an element of caring behind it but he supposed it didnt matter then. It didn't matter at all. Sherlock did as he was told though he felt embarrassed then - it was one thing to be naked and worked up but after his orgasm he felt vulnerable and now he was in a position which - should have been shameful.

 

"I'm your goodboy."

 

He repeated more for his own benefit than anything else. All negative thought just disappeared when Jim's tongue traced along the crease of his arse and down to his - to his entrance. He gasped and shook his head but he didn't exactly know what he was saying no too.

 

"That's - really...bad. Filthy. It isn't..."

 

He screwed his eyes shut and moaned.

 

"So filthy..."

 

Jim hummed and licked again, spreading Sherlock's arse so he could get in deeper.

 

"You taste like sin."

 

Jim groaned and scratched down Sherlock's back with one hand while the other groped his arse cheek. He loved eating arse, loved rimming people. Boys. Good boys who never felt like this before in his life. He loved being the one to make them question why it felt so good. Why they liked it. Why they never wanted to stop. He worked his tongue over Sherlock's puckered rim for what felt like hours, his jaw aching as he licked and licked, spearing his tongue so he could push it into his lover's body  giving him his first taste of penetration.

 

He didn't know how long it went on for, if it was hours or days - time was irrelevant and a construct he didn't understand. It was nothing but wave after wave of delicious indescribable want, of wet licks and Jim's tongue penetrating his body, exploring the most intimate unseen part of him. Sherlock would have expected the sensation to be strange, he'd never felt any pleasure at the doctors office for his prostate exam and honestly the brief experience of penetration was awkward and uncomfortable. This was - like fireworks, like a chemical reaction undiscovered.

 

"Oh - fuck..."

 

Sherlock hardly ever swore but the word came out low wrapped in his baritone. 

 

Jim knew when he started swearing that he should get started. He sucked on his longest finger and dipped in the tip into Sherlock's body.

 

"You like it? My dirty tongue inside you?"

 

Jim pushed in a little more and then waited. Holding himself there, knuckle deep inside him, waiting for Sherlock to get used to the penetration.

 

"Feel good? I won't move until you want me to. Breathe." 

 

Jims tongue was one thing but the finger felt far more solid, unrelenting. At first he wasn't sure if he liked it or not, holding his breath from the tension until Jim's hand stroked down his back and he relaxed, exhaling softly, taking slow steady breaths. He'd trusted Jim this far - there was no point going back.

 

"I want it. I want you to show me how it can feel."

 

Sherlock screwed his eyes shut.

 

"It feels strange now but I can feel the promise of something else and I - I don't know why but I think I trust you or I must have lost my mind."

 

He fisted his hands in the sheets and pulled at them.

 

"You're preparing me. To make it easier when you - put your cock inside of me."

 

"I am. Maybe one day I'll fuck you fast and dirty without preparing your body but not today. Not now. I'm going to make you so ready, so open that I can just dip my cock into you like you're made for me."

 

Jim leant down and licked where his finger disappeared into his body. He licked slowly as he pumped his finger in and out, twisting to move the digit and change the sensation before slowly adding the second. He waited again for Sherlock to say it was okay, and then he found the man's prostate where he would stay for a while yet.

 

"I'm going to massage your prostate now. It's going to be intense but you'll enjoy it I promise."

 

Jim warned him before he began, making sure he didn't shock Sherlock as he started running his fingers over the hub of nerves. 

 

Sherlock felt Jim's fingers working into his body and it quickly moved from strange to - exactly what he wanted. As Jim changed how he moved and went faster than before. He'd never imagined Jim to be so thorough or so careful - as if Sherlock went beyond some curiosity. He wasn't brave enough to ask why. He made a lot of broken noises that made no sense, answering or responding when Jim needed him too. The first touch to his prostate was a revelation - then he did let out a strangled cry, broken like a wounded dog. His arms were trembling from holding himself up but if they were aching he didn't notice. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat with his once perfectly positioned curls now messy and sticking to his damp forehead. Sherlock but his lips and groaned, stretching his neck and back to feel every inch of his body.

 

"Come on. I'm ready. Don't forget - I O U remember. Take it - take what's yours."

 

"Oh baby...how could I forget?"

 

Jim grinned and pushed himself up, leaning over Sherlock's body to reach into his bedside table for the bottle of lube. He slathered his cock and honestly that was almost enough to tip him over the edge.

 

"I'm going to make you feel so good baby."

 

Jim smeared what was left on his hands over Sherlock's arse, fingering him one more time before getting ready. Though in the end he turned Sherlock over, so he could look at him.

 

"I want to see you, to look into your eyes."

 

He smiled and positioned Sherlock's legs so he could line himself up and slowly start to push into his body.

 

"Oh god..."

 

Jim moaned as his head was swallowed by Sherlock's virgin body. 

 

Sherlock was shaking, aroused and nervous even when he ended up on his back.  He opened his legs and bent his knees, watching with wide eyes as Jim guided his cock between them and pressed against the lubricated slick hole which he had so throughly fingered open. It was - inexplicable. Hard, unforgiving. Strange and beautiful. Making him feel so - greedy.

 

"More."

 

He groaned, arching his back, his feet slipping on the bed sheets.

 

"Take me. Take me please. Please, Jim." Sherlock whined again. "Please."

 

He had a vague memory of saying he would never beg, let alone three times.

 

A few years ago he would've only believed that to make Sherlock say please three times, he would've needed to torture him for days. And yet here he was. Begging for more, for him, in the most delighted, desperate tone.

 

"Good boy..." Jim whispered as he pushed in completely.

 

Their bodies clapped together as he snapped his hips and Jim couldn't help but moan as he slowly pulled out to the swell of his cockhead and then slammed back in.

 

"Fuck. My good boy. Good - oh fuck..."

 

Jim couldn't keep himself together as he started thrusting in and out, again and again, it was remarkable. Sherlock's body was exquisite. 

 

This was sex - this was fucking. This was what made everyone crazy enough to steal, to lie and kill. In that moment Sherlock understood it completely because it was the best thing he had ever experienced. Jim's body was everything, the weight of his it and the stretch of the cock now pounding into him. Sherlock's hands were all over Jim, scratching and pulling, forcing himself up so they could kiss again though it was unco-ordinated and messy.

 

"Oh fuck - Jim..."

 

His teeth bared and he collapsed, back making the perfect arch as he practically levitated off of the bed.

 

"Good - so good. More. Don't stop."

 

"You're so desperate. God I could just keep you here."

 

Jim groaned and moved them so Sherlock was sitting up on his lap, his legs around Jim's waist as he started bouncing up and down fucking into that gorgeous hole.

 

"That's it. That's it baby. Oh fuck too feel so good. My virgin baby. Fuck..."

 

Jim cried out and moved faster, harder, desperate now just to come inside of that sweet arse. He bucked his hips two more times before he was gasping and clawing at Sherlock's back, his orgasm snuck up on him and before he could realise it was happening, Jim was filling Sherlock's body to the very brim. He rolled his hips letting his cock slide out just to feel his own come slather his shaft as he pushed back in. 

 

Sherlock hadn't even thought what it might be like to witness ones partner orgasm and it was so close to the accute sensation of having his own, the way Jim's face contorted, the way he didn't for a second stop pumping into his body. He could sense the increased fullness where Jim's come had spilled inside his body. Their skin was so good together, so hot and sweaty, tasting of salt and - sex though that was a new smell, one with many layers. Sherlock came the moment Jim's hand wrapped around him, little more than two firm strokes and he was falling over that sweet edge and ever the addict he knew there was no coming back from it. They collapsed back into the bed, his chest heaving as the arousal waned and was replaced by this blissful sort of oblivious sensation.

 

"Better than cocaine." Sherlock mused, letting his eyes close as he caught his breath. 

 

Jim turned over onto his side, looking at Sherlock like he was a work of art.

 

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I hope it was something you could put your focus on."

 

He got up and walked into the ensuite to get a flannel and dampened it on warm water.

 

"Now before I let you into my bed you're going to get cleaned up."

 

Jim got onto the bed and rolled sherlock over so he could wash him off, getting all the come and sweat off him he could. It was honestly one of his more favourite things. He liked taking care of them, his lover's. This was more intimate than a shower.

 

"There now. You gorgeous thing."

 

Jim tossed the flannel to the side, he'd get it in the morning and turned down the duvet where they hid underneath. 

 

There was something amazingly therapeutic about having his skin so delicately washed, the warm cloth in Jim's hands running over his flesh.

 

"It feels amazing."

 

He murmured, not realising he was half asleep until Jim stopped and he was climbing under the sheets. Jim turned the lights off and they lay facing one another in the dark, he was scared but he wanted to touch - to be touched. Sherlock reached forward and cautiously laid an arm over Jim's waist, their faces close.

 

"This is - everything I didn't know I needed." He paused. "You are - very clever."

 

Sherlock grinned and kissed him, just softly.

 

Jim furrowed his brow and shrugged but before he could say anything, Sherlock was kissing him. So soft and sweet it was - it was like genuine attraction that went beyond sexual attraction. When Sherlock pulled back Jim ran his fingers through his hair,

 

"I am very clever. I'm glad you liked it. It was incredible. Now,  I'm exhausted. I'll make eggs in the morning if you're lucky."

 

Jim kissed him a little hotly, not used to the sweetness Sherlock had shown him earlier.

 

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

 

He smiled and turned over, wrapping his arms around his fluffy down pillow but then felt Sherlock's arm wrap around his body.

 

Jim turned away and it left him feeling a little cold so he shuffled closer and laid an arm around him again. When Jim didn't move away he allowed himself to settle, his eyes fluttering closed and then he was asleep in a matter of minutes.

 

Sherlock did have eggs for breakfast in the morning but he had an accute feeling that Jim was done. Bored even. He understood of course and went to collect the suit from the roof, getting himself a cab back to Baker Street and thinking the whole ride that he was going to try very hard not to think about sex and how interesting it had been. A few days past and he thought perhaps Jim would have texted - wasn't it something that humans usually engaged in on a regular basis when they had the opportunity and found a person attractive. Sherlock was getting antsy, it had never bothered him before but now he'd had a taste he wanted more. 

 


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

Still not dead? SH

Last time I checked. JM

Good, that's good. SH

Busy? SH

Not really. JM

Want to be busy? SH

Are you asking to have sex again, Sherlock? JM

Well I wasn't trying to be quite so obvious. SH

If you want to, you know were to find me. You know you can try other people too. If you just want sex. JM

Why would I want sex with other people? SH

You're my sex person. SH

I'm your sex person? JM

Yes, obviously. SH

Well you're a good fuck so I don't mind. JM

So now we have dinner. SH

We have dinner? JM

Yes, that's what people do isn't it? They have dinner and then they have sex. SH

Some do - others just have sex. JM

Dinner is nice though. SH

Yes it is. I'm dead though. Tricky for a dead criminal to make a dinner reservation. JM

We could order in. SH

Alright. JM

Good. I was worried you would say no and then I would have to be angry at you. SH

Well, we can't have that. JM

I did some research - a lot of people think it is unreasonable to take someones virginity and then not contact them for three days. SH

Well, virginity is a social construct and only weighs what you give it. So, if you were that bothered by me not texting you for three days then my apologies. I thought you were beyond that. JM

I didn't say I was bothered. SH

I'm still trying to work out if you were manipulating me. SH

You were user and lonely. You needed a distraction. I gave you one. JM

It was fun. JM

So I should have sex with other people? SH

If you want. JM

Okay. SH

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn't work. SH

I did it exactly how you did. SH

What do you mean? JM

With the hand on the throat and the intense eye contact. SH

Oh. Sherlock that was - i did that for you. I don't do that with everyone. Not ordinary people. JM

I did not have a successful evening. I'm not even sure I want to have sex with any of the people I met. SH

Or anyone else except you. SH

We can have sex again, I don't mind that. You're gorgeous and we had fun. JM

I don't like how flippant you are about it. SH

It makes me feel stupid. SH

You're not stupid. JM

I feel stupid for experiencing an emotional connection. SH

When you obviously didn't. SH

You were just having fun. SH

I was having fun. Because it was fun. You enjoyed it, didn't you? JM

Yes, but it wasn't just fun. SH

You were sad, you've never felt that before. It's alright. JM

Ah yes. I was over emotional and not thinking properly. SH

That was sarcasm. SH

Oh, don't give me that. JM

I may not be very good at it but you know full well what I'm trying to tell you so stop searching for excuses. SH

Alright. JM

You want to date me. JM

I've never dated anyone, I don't know. SH

Do you want to have dinner and be together other than having sex? JM

Yes. Often. SH

I missed you extensively when you were dead. SH

I have to be honest Sherlock. I don't really date people. JM

Oh, I do. All of the time. I'm the boss of dating people. They call me Casanova. SH

You're an idiot. JM

You smiled. SH

Nevertheless. JM

John once told me that dating was about doing something fun together. SH

We did that for a long time. SH

I had lots of fun the wholesome you were trying to destroy my reputation and kill my closest friends. SH

Yes we did have fun. While I tried t ruin your life and kill you and the people you love. JM

Dating I think is different. Friends have fun together. Boyfriends are trying to fall in love. SH

Ah. I see that might be an issue. SH

Yep. JM

Perhaps I can work on it. SH

Just think about things. Do you want to just have sex and be friends? Or are you feeling something beyond that? JM

I do feel things towards you that go beyond what I feel for other people. But I understand that I might be difficult to love. SH

Not that we would love each other. SH

Sherlock I'm supposed to be dead, I was the boss of the biggest crime business in London and i'm a psychopath. You're not the difficult one. JM

It's not a competition. SH

And if it as I would win. SH

But it isn't. SH

But I still win. SH

Take two days. Think about what you want. And we'll talk about it. JM

Two days starting...NOW. SH

Okay weirdo. JM

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

And...times up. SH

Do you want to fuck me or date me? JM

Can we do both, please? SH

I guess we could try. JM

You never guess. You always know. SH

Then we could try. JM

I have a comfortable bed. SH

So you said. JM

Should I come over? JM

Yes, I rather think so. SH

Now? JM

Hmmm. Yes. Right now. SH

I'll get a cab. JM

 

 


End file.
